Death

Happy Easter. Today, my family joyfully celebrates a wonder among wonders. I hope you too find the same joy.

Image result for shroud of turin

Death

That chill let slip
its long fingers,
cowered against

the cold stone
as a trembling child,
its eyes clasped shut,
turned toward the tomb’s

cool floor…
for the Light, the terrible,
wonderful Light.

Golgotha

I’ve always been fascinated by Christ’s humanity, and grateful for it. God in the flesh. Here I try to capture an instant of that humanity.

Image result for christ's bloody face

Golgotha

Blood trickled
over his brow,
dripping

on his cheek;
an odd drop clung
to a whisker

as a bead of dew
to a blade of grass
and his face began to itch.

He Smiled

John 3:1-2

1 There was a man of the Pharisees,
named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews:
The same came to Jesus by night, […]

The others slept.
Jesus gathered brittle branches,
mustard and olive,

for the fire, its red bloom
slowly folding,
sinking into earth.

He broke fists of bread
into small pieces,
laying each on a stone

sharp with the fire’s heat.
A small skin of wine rested
in the shadows behind him.

Better to keep it cool,
wrapped in night’s chill.
He smiled

and Nicodemus
stepped from the darkness.

And then the Light

Not sure enough about this one. We’ll see how it reads.

John 9:6

When [Jesus] had thus spoken, he spat on the ground,
and made clay of the spittle, and he anointed
the eyes of the blind man with the clay, […]

The clay – soft, warm,
scents of earth:
stone and root.

The teacher’s hands,
calloused, dry,
heavy like rock.

Can this be healing?
A wind, a burning,
these eyes burning.

And then the light,
such blinding light.

A Dollop of Blood

 


Matthew 27:54

Now when the centurion, and they that were with him,
watching Jesus, saw the earthquake, and those things
that were done, they feared greatly, saying,
Truly this was the Son of God.

A soldier raises his hand
to touch the wind,
the air that sweeps

to catch a dollop of blood
fallen from the jew’s feet,
lay it on the earth beneath

the cross as a mother cradles
her child, lays him softly
on a swaddle of cloth and warmth.